


Top Raw-Men

by reynkout



Series: Retail Store Epics [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 99 ranch market, Accents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Blowjobs, Dubious Consent, Kissing, M/M, Mulan references, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Rough Kissing, Sex, Sexual Content, Song references, birthday fic, chinese accent, happy birthday marco, i dont even fucking know anymore, i really like thigh fucking, im so sorry, jason derulo references, june 16th, marco is really hot, mild stereotyping, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynkout/pseuds/reynkout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's never been to a real Chinese supermarket before, but when Connie and Sasha bribe him with sodium-packed Top Ramen (oh, <i>delicious</i>) in return for carrying out a dare that consists of fishing out a sea creature from the live food tanks in the fish section, things don't always seem to go that well.</p><p>Thankfully, there's a bright, young butcher who notices all the commotion, and he's more than willing to <i>come</i> to the rescue.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Happy birthday, Marco!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Raw-Men

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE NOTE:  
> **  
>  This fic has dialogue that may or may not offend people. There is a Chinese accent depicted in the conversations held between Jean and Marco, etc. If you are easily offended by stereotypes (which this is NOT), please opt out from reading this fic.  
> [DISCLAIMER]  
> I myself am also Chinese and live in an Chinese-American household, in a Chinese-American neighborhood. My interpretation is my own, and not to be taken so seriously. The Retail Store Trilogies is a series that is made to be fun and lighthearted.
> 
>  
> 
> Heyaaa! It's Kristine.
> 
> This is a little something I wrote up in less than a day's time because I am a professional procrastinator... No, what I wanted to say was that this fic was a lot of fun to write even though I have a million other projects that need to be finished like cough, [TotS](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2120643/chapters/4627596), cough, and so forth. 
> 
> I know that not everyone has an Asian supermarket near their house, but if you do, I suggest going in there at least once to check out some cool stuff. Sometimes, you can even get free meal tickets for the cafeteria if you buy over $x of products!
> 
> Happy birthday to our wonderful, beautiful, perfect, and precious cinnamon bun!

“Come on, dude, it’ll be fun!”

“The hell it will!”

“Aw, Jean, stop being such a kill-joy. It’s just a grocery market.”

“Yeah, one that’s _not_ called Ralph’s.”

“Exactly! We’re going for the ‘exquisite’ factor here,” says Connie, making air quotations with his grimy, hamburger-grease covered fingers. “Besides, how many times do you actually know what goes into your chow mein?”

Jean sighs, admitting, “..Never?”

“That’s a bingo!” Sasha exclaims. “So, why not check out the market here and find out?”

“I’d rather not.” Jean refuses.

He’d rather not go through this “extraordinary bonanza” trip with his friends to a Chinese supermarket, especially after picking them up from the Arcadia Westfield mall, dragging Connie out of a Gamestop (Jean had to use brutal force in order to remove his friend from the horror game section), and finally treating them to each a burger and fries at In-N-Out. Jean is so exhausted, and yet his two friends want to take a trip to a _Chinese grocery store_. He’d much rather go home and veg on the couch watching Netflix for the next five hours.

“Why nooot?” whines Connie, much like a little kid. Jean promptly rolls his eyes.

Sasha just has to put in her two cents, “Come on, Jean. It’ll be fun!”

Jean shakes his head. “No fucking way in hell.”

“They have Pocky there,” Connie says.

“There’s also Top Ramen,” Sasha bribes. “And I heard for _really_ cheap, too. Half the price of Ralph’s.”

Jean bites his lip, knowing full well that his supply of instant food is dwindling quickly; he’s been trying to eat quickly without spending his money on eating out every week. It’s really taken a toll on his insta-food supply, as he’s always coming home to cook up something... or, in his case, microwave a multitude of things and mix it well.

His resistance finally cracks. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, but you are paying for a family pack.”

“Whatever you say, Jeanny-boy.” Connie smiles cheekily, wiping his fingers off on his sleeve; Jean watches, pulling a disgusted face at his friend.

Parking is always a pain in LA, but they find a spot eventually. The market turns out to be huge, way bigger than Jean could have ever imagined. It’s not some old ma and pa shop, oh no, it’s practically it’s own pavilion of Chinese grocery and goods. And, from what Jean can see, they’ve even got a cafeteria filled with every Chinese dish imaginable. Jean’s jaw almost drops at how amazing this place really is.

99 Ranch Market is what it’s named; Connie snickers, “What if it was 69 Ranch instead?”

Jean hits him with his palm in the back of the head. “Are you stupid? That’s such a bad joke, Conn.”

“Yeah, but still,” he sighs.

“But nothing. Shut up,”

“Please,” Sasha interjects, making Jean’s snap a little less venomous.

They browse through the endless aisles of stuff, ogling at the selection of snacks, amazing herbs and teas, playing with the mushrooms in the produce section, poking at the packaged meat in the refrigerated area; Jean hauls a box of ramen noodles with him in chicken flavor. When they walk towards what seems to be the seafood and poultry, Connie lets out an excited gasp.

“Whoa, holy shit!” he swears. “Look, they’ve got an aquarium here!”

Sasha says, “Look at all those fish!”

“And the lobsters!”

“I don’t think that’s an aquarium,” Jean says, but he goes unheard.

“And the shellfish!”

“And crabs!” A pause, and then Connie’s grinning like a fool. “Hey, Jean,”

“What?” Jean frowns, staring at his friend in annoyance. “If you’re going to tell me I’m just as crabby as the crab in that tank, I’m going to punch you in the nose.”

Connie blinks a few times before laughing, “Oh, oh no! I was gonna, haha! But that’s even better! I can’t believe you came up with it yourself! Pretty good, Jeanny-boy!”

“I wanna punch you so bad right now.” Jean threatens, knowing full well that he can’t carry out his words in a market. Eventually, Connie calms down, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“So I wanted to make an offer with you,” he tells Jean. “I’ll buy you _two_ family packs of ramen if you can fish out one of those crabs... with your bare hands.”

“Hah?” Jean’s a little surprised. “That’s it? That’s all you want me to do?”

Connie’s still snickering under his breath while Sasha, bright as ever, replies for him, “Yeah! That’s it!”

Jean groans; again, his hunger is at stake. “Deal. I’ll do it.”

“Awesome!” both Sasha and Connie yell.

 _Here goes nothing_ , thinks Jean. He sidles up to the aquarium tank, taking a good look at the crabs that lay lifelessly at the bottom of their glass cage.

The water tickles his fingertips as Jean submerges his hand into the cold water, his heart jumping a little at how crazy this feat is. He’s going to catch a crab with his bare hands, and no one is stopping him. The wetness has a slimy texture over his skin that brings goosebumps to his entire arm; nevertheless, he continues on, reaching for the crab of his choice.

The crab is alone in the corner, looking almost harmless. If Jean can just avoid the claws, he’ll be absolutely golden, earning an extra box of ramen to take home. He musters up his courage and dives deeper. All in the name of hunger... and Top Ramen.

“Gotcha!” he shouts, hand grabbing onto the firm exoskeleton of the crustacean.

But before he could lift it out of the water, the crab’s pinchers latch onto the webbing of skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Pain surges from his hand throughout his body, making him scream in agony. Jean jerks his hand out of the tank, pulling the crab with it, and attempting to shake it off of him.

“Get it off, get it off!” he shrieks as Connie and Sasha laugh their heads off at their friend. What good friends Jean has. “Fuck you! Get it off!”

“Haha, can’t handle that crabbiness, can ya?” taunts Connie.

Jean yodels, “CONN!!”

People are starting to stare at the chaos the three are making. Even the butcher from the back comes out, staring at what looks to be a mass homicide scene. He hops over the counter, approaching the panicking Jean.

“I help you,” he says. “No move, I help you!”

Jean notices the butcher, beginning to calm down before he realizes that, oh no, the butcher is hot. And is carrying a very large... cleaver. He begins to freak out again, squirming and running around even more than before the butcher came to the rescue. The butcher can’t help but let out a frustrated groan.

“Please, don’t chop off my arm for that thing!” Jean screams, hysterical. Connie and Sasha double over in laughter. “Please!”

“No, no!” the butcher shouts back. “I do try to help you!”

Tears begin to prick the corners of Jean’s eyes, hand beginning to throb. The crab just isn’t letting up. At this point, the strangely attractive butcher may have to really chop his hand off with that cleaver of his. The thought of losing his hand (the one he actually writes with) is too horrifying; he stares at the butcher with wide eyes.

Somehow the butcher gets the notion that Jean wants to keep his hand. He sighs softly, dropping the knife he’s holding in the his hand to the ground; it lands with a big clanging clatter that brings all attention on him.

“Look, I not try to hurt you.” he explains, palms facing out to Jean. “Come to back. I help you there.”

Jean, with tears trailing down his face, nods, calming down a bit and follows the 99 Ranch butcher to the back of the house.

“Good luck, Chuck!” Sasha yells at them, stifling her laughter behind her hand.

“Yeah,” Connie pitches in. “Hope that crab doesn’t get you in the balls, too!”

Jean mutters, “What the fuck,” He decides to ignore the rest, instead diverting all his attention to the butcher, who is opening up the side door so they can get into the back room and remove the aggressively persistent crab from his hurting hand.

The butcher holds the door open for him, beckoning him to hurry up and take a seat in one of the plastic lounge chairs they staff has got set up in the corner. Jean does as told, quickly striding over to the spot and sitting in a chair that is semi-comfortable. Well, of course, nothing is more comfortable than getting this damned crab off of his hand. His skin is turning a firetruck red from the pinch.

Jean’s savior crouches in between his legs; Jean has to look away as his face goes red at the sight, arousal beginning to trickle down to the little guy in his pants. He gulps, not trusting himself to speak unless he’s asked to.

And he is, because the butcher asks while pulling out some rubber gloves from his pockets, “You scared, aa?”

With his voice wavering, Jean replies, “N-no... maybe a bit,”

“You very lucky,” the butcher smiles and, god, is that smile just gorgeous. “I hear you from the back, screaming. And your friends, not so much friend to you.”

Jean lets out a weak laugh. “They’re just douchebags; they love to fuck with me all the time.”

The butcher lets out a huff. “Why you try to catch crab with your hand?”

“My friend, _ah_ ,” Jean whimpers a bit as the butcher begins to shift the crab’s grip from his hand. “A-ah, my friend said he’d get me ramen if I did,”

“You crazy, mister.” The man shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “What your name?”

“Jean-- _nghh_ ,” Again, another shift causes tiny, pained noises to elicit from Jean.

“Your name... _Zhong_?” the butcher asks. “You name ‘Swollen’?”

Swollen? Oh fuck, Jean’s starting to get _swollen_ down there; his member twitches at the butcher’s voice, and he bites his lip without knowing it.

 _Get it together, Kirschstein. You can’t just bang your savior in the back of a butchery at 99 Ranch Market!_ he thinks, mentally scolding himself at the fantasies that come flying through his head.

“No! N-no,” Jean says a little too quickly. “Jean, like ‘John’. It’s, ah, ahn, it’s French.” The crab’s pincher is almost off of his hand, the last part bringing scorching hot discomfort to his skin. “What’s your name?”

“Me?” the butcher asks, then replies. “My name, Marco.”

“Marco?” Jean repeats slowly without Marco’s very heavy accent.

“Marco,” he confirms. “It like ‘ma’ for horse, and the ‘ko’ for mouth.”

Jean scrunches up his face. “Your name means Horse Mouth?” What the actual fuck?

“English names weird.” Marco concludes. “Chinese name better. Prettier; Shang Li.”

“Is that your real name? It’s nice,” says Jean. He lets out a exasperated breath as the crab is finally pulled all the way off of him, freeing him from the almost unbearable pain. “Thanks, Marco. I wouldn’t ‘ve known what to do if you weren’t there,”

“It okay, it okay,” Marco smiles again, and Jean’s groin tickles in excitement. Damn hormones. “Everything fine. You no longer screaming.”

Jean watches Marco coax the crab into an aquarium they’ve got in the back, lips pressed together in attempt not to pop a boner when Marco bends over, releasing the crab and peeling the latex gloves from his fingers. Jean ruffles his blond hair nervously, waiting for whatever is going to happen next.

Marco comes back to him with a first aid kit. As he rubs the alcohol pad to cleanse Jean’s skin, he glances up at the blonde every so often.

“It hurt like cut?” he questions.

Jean says, “No, not really. Just kind of sensitive.” He tries not to focus on Marco too much, wishing the butcher wouldn’t place himself between his legs all the time. Unconsciously, he begins to shut his thighs, nearly clipping Marco in the chin with his knee. “Oh shit! Sorry!” 

But Marco gives him that amazing grin that might just melt Jean’s brain into goo. “No problem, no problem.” He accepts Jean’s apology with more grace than Jean’s capable of having in his entire body. “Say, you have girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” Jean’s taken aback. “Uh, um, no... I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Marco quirks a brow, leaning in closer; so close to Jean’s growing erection. “And what about boyfriend?”

Jean draws in a quick, ragged breath. “I... um,” He gulps when Marco’s practically smiling in his lap, dick so fucking close to his savior’s mouth. “Marco...” He tilts his head back when two fingers stroke over the zipper of his pants, eyes fixed on the man in front of him.

“What wrong, Jean? Still hurt?” His voice is smooth like silk, low and seductive. Jean _knows_ he’s in big trouble.

“Uhmm...” The blonde is able to mumble, “’S hard...”

Marco’s fingers become bolder, stronger, rubbing along the length of Jean’s cock through the fabric of Jean’s pants. His smiles morphs into a smirk, mouth moving closer to kiss at the hardening length beginning to strain at the zipper. The kisses are teasing and light, extremely arousing to Jean. He bites back a tiny moan that slips from his control, his good hand sneaking its way into the butcher’s dark hair; it’s soft and thick, perfect for weaving his fingers through.

The sound of ruffling fabric has Jean’s mind reeling; he can’t believe what’s happening right now. Marco’s pulling down his pants and boxers to get a better look at his hardening cock. The look on Marco’s face when Jean’s dick springs up from its confines is absolutely exquisite, and Jean could almost come watching Marco gaze hungrily at his arousal.

His pink tongue darting out to wet his full, pillow-like lips, Marco takes his time to get his fingers to crawl towards Jean’s cock, stroking taunting little circles into the base of Jean’s already dripping cock. He hums, pleased when Jean nearly chokes on the sounds coming from his throat. He tries something a bit more, palm brushing along the vein of the underside of Jean’s cock.

“Oh, fuck, Marco.” Jean pants, noticing the way the saliva on Marco’s lips glisten in the dank fluorescent lights of the back room.

“You like?” Marco’s mouth moves against Jean’s member as he speaks; droplets of precome drip onto the bridge of his nose, running down to his chin.

Jean can barely take in the sight of Marco properly; he’s gonna blow his load all over Marco’s face if he doesn’t control himself right now. Taking a deep lungful of air, he whispers, “Yeah.”

“Mm, me too.” agrees Marco.

“Really?” Jean’s a little surprised.

“Yes,”

And then Jean is gasping loudly, back arching when Marco engulfs the head of his dick. His mouth is so hot... hot damn. It’s like velvet, his tongue already swirling around and lapping up the salty liquid that is weeping from Jean’s slit. His cheeks hollow, taking Jean in further into his mouth, warmth and movement sending shivers of pleasure down Jean’s spine; he thrusts up a little, earning a tiny gag from Marco. But, before he can say sorry, the butcher swallows him down to the base.

“Ohh god,” Jean’s voice is breathless, hand in Marco’s hair pulling lightly at the strands. “Marco,”

Marco makes this humming noise around Jean’s cock and, oh, is that _dangerous_. Jean moans aloud, not bothering to lower his voice. He wiggles his hips, muscles tightening at the raw pleasure he’s experiencing. He watches how Marco bobs up and down on his length, teeth not once grazing his skin. He’s somewhere between fascinated and horrified at the same time.

Marco’s so good, it’s driving him up the wall. They’ve only been at it for a few minutes (an approximation Jean’s made up in his mind) and the blonde’s about to blow any second now. He groans, trying to ease Marco off of his dick, deeming himself not ready for release quite yet.

“Too bad?” Marco cocks his head to the side, shaking Jean’s crumbling self-control.

The blonde purses his lips, then, “Too good, more like. You’re gonna make me come.”

“Mmn, okay.” Marco, smiling again with that amazing mouth of his, rises to his feet.

“Okay? What..?” Jean’s caught off-guard when the butcher kicks his work boots away; shoves his work pants down and off... he rids himself of the apron, leaving his bottom half completely bare for Jean to see.

 _Oh. My god._ Jean thinks he might just faint right then and there. There are tattoos adorning Marco’s hipbones, what looks to be phoenixes on one side, there are dragons on the other, and the middle is clear of ink. The dragons’ tails curl down Marco’s thigh; flames from the phoenixes lick along his pelvic bone. Marco’s skin is a perfect shade of tan. Not too light, not too dark. The best way he can describe it is like an olive shade covered in a million specks of freckles. It’s like the freckles on his face, but much fainter, more delicate and spaced out, whereas many of the ones on his face cluster mostly on his cheeks and nose. Jean can’t help but drool at the sight.

“Jean?” Marco kisses his cheek chastely, snapping Jean out of his thoughts.

He lets out a keening noise. “The hell, Marco.” he mumbles. “How are you so...”

“What?” the butcher says. “I don’t understand you.”

Jean grits his teeth. “God, Marco, you’re so perfect.” Adrenaline pumps through his blood. “Come on, I.. wanna fuck you so bad.”

Marco grins impossibly wide at what he’s just heard, shuffling closer to Jean, but before the blonde can pull him into his lap and rut against him, he turns around. Looking over his shoulder, he chuckles at Jean’s very confused face, then proceeds to bend at the waist, presenting his ass to the other. He takes both of his hands to his cheeks, spreading himself.

Jean can barely move, paralyzed by the way Marco’s entrance twitches and puckers slightly. He wants to touch it, to lick it, to _taste_ it until Marco’s begging to be fucked. But he doesn’t, because Marco’s already dragging his ass over his leaking member.

“Ohh,” Marco moans, a tingling sensation spreading through him as he feels how endowed Jean really is. It would be a tight fit if he tried to sit on Jean’s dick. He’s going to have to opt for the next best thing.

Jean’s hands grab at Marco’s waist, begging him to draw nearer, but Marco refuses, instead allowing Jean’s cock to spread his cheeks apart. He closes his eyes, head lolling slightly. Swallowing some of his drool that’s accumulated in his mouth, he moans Marco’s name over and over again. He thrusts up as well, following the pace Marco has set for the both of them.

“Wait, wait,” Marco pleads, and Jean reluctantly slows to a stop.

Jean’s about to give up on coming when Marco gets onto all fours in front of him, ass sticking up high in the air. He can barely think, sliding from the plastic lounge chair to kneel behind Marco. He strokes his cock, eyes never leaving Marco’s lovely bottom. He rubs the tip over the entrance, breathing suddenly heavier. But Marco shakes his head, grabbing Jean’s wrist and guiding him lower, pressing back when Jean’s dick slides under his balls and collides with his own arousal. He lets out a needy whine, eyes rolling shut. His thighs press together, surprisingly soft skin tightening around Jean’s cock.

The blonde swears he gapes before he moans, hands flying to Marco’s hips. He pulls Marco back, thrusting forward, thankful for his copious amounts of precome to lubricate both Marco’s cock and thighs. As they thrust against each other (Marco going back, Jean forward), Jean can’t deny admiring how Marco’s ass jiggles when their hips meet.

The feeling between Marco’s thighs is unlike any other experience he’s ever had before. The soft skin of his inner thighs are something, but the strong muscles flexing underneath that layer of amazing skin is what gets him undeniably excited. They clench him tight and good, so good that it presses his buttons in the right sequence.

“Jeaan,” Marco moans, turning his face around to look at Jean directly. Jean can’t resist leaving over, pressing his chest to Marco’s back. They kiss sloppily, messily, teeth nipping at each others’ lips, sometimes clicking against one another. “Harder,” he says.

Jean can’t do anything but obey.

He moves vigorously, the slide between them becoming hotter and even better than before. He speeds up his pace, arms linking together around Marco’s torso for more leverage, teeth biting at Marco’s skin through his shirt. Marco yelps at the sudden nips, but presses his legs together even tighter, earning a gasp from Jean. He smirks for only a second; one of Jean’s hands grasps both of them as he continues thrusting.

The stimulation is quickly becoming too much for Marco; his resolve is starting to crack. He’s not going to last much more. His eyes are beginning to cross beneath his closed lids, mouth permanently hung open, rapidly shooting Jean’s name from his lips. His thighs are being rubbed raw, his balls beginning to feel sore, too. But there’s this undying heat in his belly that could erupt like a volcano over his body any time.

“Oh, oh!” he cries. “Jean!”

Jean furrows his brow, squeezing his eyes closed, brow furrowed. “Marco!” he responds. “Gonna come, ah, fuck,”

“Yes!”

Marco is so close, he just needs a little more before it’s too much, allowing him to come. He thrusts back harder, ass bouncing so hard against Jean that he figures there’ll be bruises as consequence later. but he doesn’t care right now. All he wants is the pleasure of his release. He wants to come. He wants to come right now.

And, somehow, Jean knows. He fucking _knows_ , his finger playing with the tip of Marco’s cock in a butterfly-kiss way that leaves Marco absolutely breathless.

He’s coming.

Oh, god, he’s coming.

“Jean!” he screams, voice cracking at the sheer bliss coursing through his veins. A wave of white crashes over his vision, the air he takes into his lungs so pure and cold that it’s almost painful. His spine arches incredibly, rushing, hot pleasure enveloping his whole being. He can’t do anything but become enraptured in his bliss, head way beyond the clouds, floating in the midst of the universe. His ears feel like he’s underwater, sounds from the outside muffled so he can’t interpret a thing.

Jean murmurs encouraging phrases into Marco’s ear, searching for his own ecstasy. He strokes himself this time, thrusting against Marco’s spurting dick. He’s majorly excited as he slicks himself in Marco’s milky come, repeating his name like a mantra as he, too, comes with a final thrust from his hips. Marco collapses to the ground, elbows and knees shaky from his orgasm, taking Jean down with him.

They stay there for a while, Jean lying on top of Marco while the other rests his cheek on the cool floor. Floating down from the clouds, Marco is the first one to come to, craning his neck to kiss Jean. This time, it’s a series of tiny, quick kisses that make his heart flutter within his chest.

Jean is the first one to move, removing himself from Marco albeit with some difficulty; he doesn’t want to let go of Marco just yet. He sits back in the lounge chair, grimacing at the big mess they’ve made. Marco crawls to his knees, carefully picking himself up before he searches for some tissues to wipe themselves with. He gets lucky, using the rest of the toilet paper in the employees’ bathroom.

They bask in the enjoyment of cleaning each other without a word, exchanging soft kisses all the while. But Marco knows that he’s still on the job, and he could possibly lose it all if he doesn’t get back on the job. Besides, he’s already broke the code of not screwing anyone in the building. He hastily helps Jean button back up, then dresses himself haphazardly, though Jean continuously wants to hold him from behind and cuddle with him forever.

“Sorry,” He explains, “Work important.” It breaks his heart to see Jean’s smile falter.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry for distracting you.” Jean mutters.

A kiss, hard and wet, shocks the blonde, but he gladly receives it. “I give you my number?” Marco smiles at him once again.

“Okay.” Jean pulls out his phone from his back pocket, allowing Marco to put in his contact information. He thanks him, kissing him one last time.

“No worry.” says Marco as he leads Jean out of the back room and back into the fish section of the market. “I give you many ramen next time.”

“Sure,” Jean bites his lip, smiling. “See you around?”

“See you.” Marco says, cheerful. “Have a nice day.”

Jean nods. “You too,”

Connie and Sasha are long gone, instead waiting by Jean’s car, gumming at Hi-Chew like it’s gum. they’ve got everything _but_ a pack of ramen.

“Where’s my prize?” Jean looks skeptical.

Connie looks guilty, shrugging. “Oh, oops. Forgot.” He grins. “Maybe next time, Jeanny-boy. But hey, looks like you had a great time. Much better than some Top Ramen.”

“Dude, just look at you!” Sasha giggles. “You’re a mess.”

“Looks like you _did_ get some after all,” Connie laughs. Jean’s hands ball into fists. He’s really going to pummel Connie now.

“CONN!!!”

* * *

_Message from Marco Bodt  
9:27PM 14 Jun 2015 _

**”Hi, Jean. It Marco again. From 99 Ranch Market? I want to ask you; you want come over? I have birthday on sixteenth of June. Just be me and you. Uhh... Call me, okay? I talk to you later! Bye-bye!”**

_Message saved as important. There are no more messages._

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa there, horsey!
> 
> Liked this story? Why not give it a kudo or so? A comment is even better (I try to reply to every person on a daily basis)!  
> Thanks for reading through this thing!


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